


Of Baths and Returns

by AngelQueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, post-series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's bath ritual takes a different turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Baths and Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ella_bane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ella_bane/gifts).



> _Merlin_ is property of the BBC and Shine. I make no claim on any of it and write this purely for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others. No copyright infringement intended.

Arthur sighed in relief as he sank his aching body into the warm, soothing water of his bath. For all of Merlin’s faults — of which he had many, the idiot, he thought with more fondness than exasperation — he had become very adept at drawing a bath that suited Arthur’s needs, whatever they might be at the time. Right now, his body throbbed from the constant work of running a kingdom. Was this how it would be when he was King? Arthur wondered tiredly. Perhaps this was why his father always seemed to age so quickly, being weighed down by the cares of state.

“Lean forward,” Merlin’s voice cut through Arthur’s weary thoughts, though it was a soft, gentle interruption. Arthur obeyed the instruction, tilting his body forward. A moment passed, and then even more warm water splashed over his head, soaking his hair.

Merlin’s fingers soon followed, massaging the soap that coated his hands into Arthur’s scalp, which prickled in response. Arthur closed his eyes and tried not to groan in relief. Here was something else that Merlin was actually good at, massaging. He supposed this was one reason why he bathed as much as he did, just so Merlin’s fingers could chase the tension and pain from his body. He stopped the groan, but instead just hummed contentedly.

He heard Merlin chuckle. “So glad you’re enjoying yourself, Sire,” he said quietly, his tone full of amusement.

Arthur smirked, though he didn’t open his eyes to glance at him. “Indeed I am, Merlin,” he replied. “It is what I keep you around for, after all. I certainly don’t keep you for your general skill as a manservant.”

Merlin’s fingers didn’t pause in their ministrations, but he still managed to convey his displeasure, only by nudging Arthur with his own body as he leaned over the tub. “I’ll have you know that I’m loads better,” Merlin maintained indignantly. “You haven’t thrown anything at me in weeks!”

“Something I can easily remedy.”

The other man harrumphed, but continued working. When the soap had coated Arthur’s hair to his satisfaction, Merlin reached across Arthur to the small stand, where a pitcher of water had been left waiting. As Merlin did so, Arthur caught the scent of lye and clover. Clearly, Merlin had been at the washing today. Though, how he found the time to do that when he was maintaining Arthur’s armor, running Arthur’s errands, and even meeting with the castle servants in Arthur’s stead, Arthur had no idea.

The water in the pitcher was cooler than his bath water, but not overly so. Merlin poured it over his lathered head, rinsing the soap from his hair. It took several bouts of pouring to completely rid the substance, but it was eventually done. Merlin fell back from returning the pitcher to the stand from whence it came, Arthur impulsively reached up and caught Merlin’s arm. He looked down at him curiously, a question on his lips, but Arthur forestalled his words by bringing the soft skin of the inside of Merlin’s wrist up to his lips. He kept Merlin’s arm there for several seconds, watching Merlin’s reaction. Surprise, a raised eyebrow, and then features softening into a small, warm smile. Merlin didn’t pull away, but flexed his wrist instead, twisting just enough to allow his fingers to brush lightly over Arthur’s cheek.

They stayed like that for a little while, Arthur pressing light kisses along Merlin’s wrist and forearm, and Merlin caressing his cheek, until finally Merlin gently pulled away. “Come on,” he said, handing him a washcloth. “Finish before you shrivel up like a dried plum.” He grinned at him. “Can’t have the Crown Prince looking all wrinkly before he even hits thirty, can we?”

Arthur glared at him, though with little rancor. Instead, he took the washcloth and the soap that followed it. While washing his body thoroughly, Merlin slipped behind him, a small towel in hand. The towel then almost completely cut off Arthur’s vision as Merlin set about drying his hair. A few minutes later, when both had finished, Arthur stood up, letting the water roll off of him before stepping out of the tub and into the larger towel that Merlin held out, waiting for him. As he took the towel and started to walk behind the dressing screen, Arthur jerked his head toward the water. “Go ahead,” was all he said. After all this time, Merlin knew the intent behind his words, that he should make use of the bath water before it grew completely cold. Merlin nodded his thanks, and began tugging at the neckerchief just as Arthur slipped behind the screen.

Arthur continued drying himself, listening with a half-ear as Merlin splashed into the bath water, repeating the process he had performed on Arthur just minutes earlier, only this time more quickly. It was part of their routine when Arthur bathed, that Merlin would also do so when Arthur had finished with the water. Still, Arthur never failed to enjoy remembering the first time Arthur had told Merlin to make use of the bath. From the scandalized look on Merlin’s face, one would have thought that Arthur had told Merlin to strip his clothes off in the courtyard at high noon. Arthur had had to all but dump Merlin into the water fully clothed, but the end result was satisfying — Merlin was clean. Such reactions were no longer necessary, since Arthur had managed to bring Merlin’s basic desire for cleanliness up to an acceptable level. Nowadays, Merlin only smelled of the stables and horse dung half the time, instead of all the time as he had when he first came to Arthur’s service. It made his company more bearable, to say the least.

Once he was dry, Arthur grabbed his nightshirt from where it hung over the screen. Dropping it over his head and letting it fall down over his body, he grabbed the comb on the small stand that sat just below the mirror. It only took a moment to remove the tangles from his hair, and he was done. As he finished, he called out, “Finished, Merlin?”

Splashing water muffled his response a little, but Arthur still heard Merlin reply, “Just about.”

Nodding to himself, Arthur slipped out from behind the screen and opened the wardrobe door. Grabbing one of his other nightshirts, he turned around to face Merlin, who was finishing rinsing himself off. Pulling the towel off of the screen, he tossed it at Merlin, who caught it deftly. Arthur waited idly as Merlin stood up and dried himself off, but when Merlin reached for his discarded clothing, he stepped forward. “No,” he said. “Here.” He handed him the nightshirt.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “But —”

“You haven’t washed those clothes in who knows how long,” Arthur cut him off. He wrinkled his nose, adding, “As evidenced by the smell.”

“But I left some clothes in the bottom drawer,” Merlin pointed back toward the wardrobe.

Arthur shrugged indifferently. “Wear it, Merlin,” he ordered, and then turned toward his bed. He crossed over to it, and pulled back the coverlet and other blankets. As he slipped between them, he looked up to see that Merlin had actually done as he was told, and had also followed him.

Arthur watched Merlin blow the candles out, just as he did every night. “Goodnight, Sire,” he said. He turned then to extinguish the last candle, but Arthur reached out and caught his arm again. Merlin looked back at him. “Arthur?”

He hesitated for just a instant, but then asked quietly, “Stay with me tonight?”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. It had been some time since Arthur had made such a request of him, asking that Merlin share his bed. Most recently, it had been because Arthur had been so immersed in putting Camelot back together and supporting his father that he not the energy to do much of anything by the end of the day but crawl into bed and collapse. Before that, Arthur had regularly filled with thoughts of Guinevere, and it had not felt right or honorable to take one lover into his bed while thinking of another. He did not know if Merlin had merely sought his pleasures elsewhere when he could, and knew that he had no right to ask if he had. He had made no promises to Merlin, had no hold on his affections other than what Merlin allowed him.

And yet, now, in the many weeks before, during, and after Camelot had been retaken, Arthur’s eyes had been opened to many things. Morgana’s perfidy, yes, and his father’s failings as a man and as a king, yes, but other things too. Merlin’s courage, secretly using his magic to bring about their victory — even if Arthur _was_ a little sketchy on the exact details of exactly _how_ it happened. Nor had he alerted Merlin that he knew of his abilities. Something he would have to rectify in the near future, but not now.

What was more, Arthur was aware that whatever feelings existed between him and Guinevere, they paled in comparison to the bond that still lay between her and Lancelot. He wasn’t blind to the longing looks that passed between them when they thought they were alone or no one was looking. When faced with that, there had been only one honorable path to take — he took Gwen aside, and suggested that she go to Lancelot. They had much to discuss, not the least of which Lancelot’s abandonment after they had all fled Hengist’s stronghold, and Arthur would not stand between them. The shock on her face had been memorable, and the smile that had resulted when he had laid a kiss of farewell on her cheek had done much to soothe any lingering hurt Arthur had felt.

Their paths, Arthur had discovered, lay together only as friends, not lovers. In that vein, they were going in opposite directions. Still, he valued her wisdom too much to lose it, and promised himself that, when he was one day free to do so, Arthur would appoint her to stand among his counsel. He didn’t care if people complained because she was a woman, she was wiser than most men he knew. Certainly wiser than most of the tetchy, entitled nobles that he had to deal with.

The past several weeks had been full of revelations, to be sure. Perhaps the most important of them, however, was Merlin. Loyal, honorable, _beautiful_ Merlin. Arthur could only hope that Merlin did not hold his previous neglect against him.

He looked up at Merlin, who continued to stare back at him. Slowly, after several more heart-stopping moments, Merlin nodded. “Very well,” he said softly.

Arthur smiled at him, feeling almost shy as he scooted over on the bed, making room for the other man. Merlin blew out the last candle, and then crawled into the bed with him. They lay side by side in the darkness, much as they did when out on extended hunting trips. It didn’t take long, though, for Merlin to shift and turn in the bed to face him. “Why now?” he asked him.

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. How could he explain the truths he had discovered lately, and in such little time, when they were both tired from a long day’s work? He couldn’t, not yet, not until they were both fresh and rested, ready to deal with the consequences that would come with speaking of this. So, Arthur just said, “Because things change, and I was wrong.” It was all he could say for the moment, and he hoped that it was enough.

It must have been, because he could see Merlin’s dark head nod in the faint moonlight that spilled through the curtains of his window. He lay his head back down, but did not turn away. Arthur also shifted onto his side, facing Merlin. Tentatively, still feeling a bit uncertain as to his welcome, he reached out, touching the skin exposed at the collar of Merlin’s nightshirt. He did not feel him tense under his touch, which was encouraging.

The ensuing hours were punctuated with sighs and moans as they explored each other’s bodies for the first time in a long while. Arthur took stock of the occasional new scar that he found on Merlin’s body, and reviewed every spot that made Merlin jerk and groan with desire. He was glad to see that his memory had not failed him.

When Arthur finally settled into the cradle of Merlin’s thighs and gazed down into Merlin’s eyes, he felt no regret, no twinge. This was where he belonged, and where Merlin belonged too. Arthur would spend the rest of his life proving that to him if he had to.


End file.
